


lazy mondays

by cougarlips



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, DON'T BE FOOLED, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Third Person, anyways idk how else to tag this but it's soft and gay and im here 4 it, the hurt is in the past, this is soft, this is them post struggle tournament being cute bfs practicing some well deserved self care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 01:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15697365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cougarlips/pseuds/cougarlips
Summary: or: the morning after a day long struggle tournament but you and ur bf were too tired to actually take care of each other so u wake up gross and achy





	lazy mondays

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: both injured and waking up beside each other
> 
> anyways i'm replaying kh1 and felt Some King Of Way and after sifting through my folder of kh wips (spoiler alert: i have a lot of them) i decided to finish one of them slfdjhfvslfkjhslkfjhljdkhs
> 
> maybe seifer is out of character here? but honestly? seifer "i'm gonna tell ya bout my ROMANTIC dream!" almasy is absolutely a sap and u can pry that hc from my cold, dead hands

“Fuck.”

The curse came out like a groan, muffled through the down of pillows. He didn’t want to move; his limbs ached, and he was pretty sure he sprained a knuckle or two. If he didn’t have to get ready for class soon, he would have just turned his cheek the other way and fallen back asleep. As it was, he seriously considered taking a personal day and skipping morning lecture.

Without bothering to open his eyes, he stretched his fingers and winced at the sharp jab coming from his second knuckle. Yeah, something was up with that one. The rest felt sore and tight, but otherwise seemed fine.

He lifted his arms above his head. It almost felt as though they lagged behind him – as if lagging was something that happened in real life. Though heavy, they didn’t feel horrible. He lowered them slowly and set them back on the bed gently.

He could still hear the soft _pitter-patter_ ing of rain from outside, though the sunlight prickled at his closed eyelids, warm and orange through the curtains he only hung up to garner some semblance of privacy. He wondered if the weather would hold out or if it would only get worse, but as soon as the thought crossed his mind it vanished, replaced only by the rustle of sheets next to him.

Cracking one eye open, he sighed at the sight beside him. Hayner hadn’t _quite_ bothered to rewrap his bandages before he crashed, if the soft smudges on his pillowcase and the state of his hands were any indication. Flecks of dried blood still dusted his cheek where he got a little too into it with another fighter and he hit the pavement.

But he was awake, which Seifer wasn’t expecting. Rich caramel eyes stared into Seifer’s with an exhausted sort of attentiveness.

“You didn’t change your bandages last night,” Seifer stated, the words coming out low and slurred with the remnants of sleep.

Hayner didn’t comment on that, though. Instead, his eyes lingered on the hand Seifer was still working at, absently nursing his aching knuckle. “Want me to check that out for you?”

He stared at Hayner as he blinked his sluggishness away. The look on Hayner’s face wasn’t an unusual one – a look of meditativeness, the calm after the storm.

Sure, Hayner was a spitfire of a fighter, as stubborn and hotheaded and fiery as they came. His passion and his drive stemmed from the energy that always seemed to be everlasting inside his core. But it almost seemed like he used his every last ounce in each one of his fights, and the mornings after always felt like this: languid and soft, with broken skin and bruised knuckles.

Seifer shook his head after what felt like too long, but Hayner shrugged. He settled back into the pillows, wincing only slightly at the movement. Then his face smoothed back out, and he shut his eyes against the ceiling.

“It was a good match,” he admitted, and Seifer knew he’d never admit that in front of anyone else. Hayner had lost against the new kid, a boy with dark hair by the name of Sora with reflexes that didn’t seem natural. It didn’t take long for the match to end, but Sora still made a point to greet Hayner afterwards and even Hayner couldn’t hate him after that. He was too soft to be hated.

“That kid sure had some fight in him, that’s for sure.”

Hayner stayed quiet but he opened his eyes again, wincing again as he made to move onto his side to face Seifer – Seifer, who followed suit until they both rested face-to-face. With a slow movement, Seifer lifted his arm and brought it to Hayner’s neck, his thumb brushing the already scabbing road rash on his jaw.

Hayner’s eyes drifted shut at the contact. It was a sight Seifer could never get tired of. So uncommon was it that anyone got to see him so open, even Seifer himself. He never necessarily put on a façade or pretended to be anyone he wasn’t, but so often he overplayed a brash and cynical personality and pushed people away. Even among his closest friends Seifer always felt the distance he put between himself and them. Here, though – here, and now, there was no distance.

Seifer pushed himself closer to Hayner until their bodies pressed flush against one another before he wrapped protesting arms around Hayner’s torso. He laid a kiss to Hayner’s neck, just underneath the spot he’d just been thumbing, but afterwards he rested his forehead in the crook between Hayner’s neck and shoulder.

“We need to get up soon.” Hayner sighed, but there was no urgency to his words. Seifer could feel a bandaged hand carding through his hair and he tilted his head up to press another kiss to Hayner’s collarbone.

“Or,” Seifer offered, “we could stay right here.” He punctuated his point with a kiss to Hayner’s sternum. “Forget class.” A kiss to his throat. “Forget practice.” A kiss to his jawline. “Just stay right here where it’s warm.” A kiss to his forehead. “And dry.” His nose. “And comfortable.” His lips.

Hayner couldn’t help the smile that lifted the corners of his mouth, nor the way his eyes shut and rolled towards the ceiling. “Your romantic dream, right?” he mumbled against Seifer’s mouth.

“Damn straight,” Seifer agreed.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are appreciated and also im on tumblr over at [@bisoras](//bisoras.tumblr.com)


End file.
